The Sweet Taste of Just Desserts

In our household, we are officially dwelling in Love in the Time of Basketball. We are not talking love in the traditional sense. All bets are off -except for those that involve March Madness and events like the Big East tourney etc. Thursday Night Date Night is once again off the books. As far as Carl is concerned, I am a distant mirage. Maybe that's why I just ordered some hip, new summer sandals. I tend to buy shoes when I'm feeling stressed. And no, I don't have a closet stuffed with shoes, maybe just a shelf or two. These days, I am a crazed, working mother rushing madly through life, trying desperately to find just a little more time in the day. Basketball addictions will do that. The household is upside down. Carl is officially disappeared. Big Daughter is in the midst of mid-terms and little one is completely, and utterly, sleep deprived. Bed time is akin to climbing Mount Everest. I'm thinking celebration and Carl is thinking Washington, as in first round of the Final Four, then possibly Charlotte and after that who knows. In the meantime, I continue to think celebration. Last year, after Carl returned from Atlanta - I forget what round of the Final Four it was - I finagled a visit to Del Posto at 15th Street/10th Avenue. I reasoned that chocolate was needed after I single-handedly ran things for several months while Carl buzzed about on a basketball high. His trip to Atlanta had added another layer to my sacrifice. It was a perfect opportunity. I was intrigued by Del Posto's chocolate tasting -several types of dark chocolate served with rum. After a steady diet of basketball, Carl was in an expansive mood. He agreed a thank you was in order (and then almost didn't arrive!). That's usually part of the process. At Del Posto, I appreciated the staff's gracious manner when they didn't quibble with my request for only chocolate. Little one and I were seated in the Enoteca, a less formal seating area near the bar. A grand space, Del Posto evokes an old-style, no-holds-barred Italian restaurant with a dramatic staircase and huge flower arrangements strategically placed. The Enoteca retains the elegance with perfectly-ironed white tablecloths and silverware with significant heft. Little one asked for ice cream. The waiter - who doted on her for the duration of the meal - brought her the perfect serving of one scoop each of vanilla and chocolate on a gleaming silver dish. After finishing her ice cream, little one decided she was hungry. We ordered a side of pasta for her but the true centerpiece was the bread basket. The bread sticks and several kinds of rolls were presented with a delicious degree of warmth. Little one was so entranced, she worked her way through two bread baskets. When the waiter brought the second bread basket, it was as if we were eating edible gold. I suggested that Carl order the goat cheese cheesecake and he was not unhappy. A little later in the summer, I craved Del Posto's thick white tablecloths and genteel service. I convinced Big Daughter and little one to accompany me for an early summer supper. I remember seeing a young man dressed in camouflage. He was clearly enjoying a good-bye dinner with his girlfriend before being deployed to Iraq. I hope he made it back home. The staff treated the couple with the utmost respect. Big Daughter enjoyed the dinner but squirmed a little under the attentive service. She complained of feeling like we'd left town. I replied that was my goal exactly. To achieve a feeling of having traveled in the short distance from Tribeca to 15th and 10th. Before Del Posto and the chocolate tasting, Carl, little one and I had visited Chicago for the NCAA First and Second Round of March Madness. I seized the opportunity to do some serious eating. I suggested that we visit Hot Doug's, a unique hot dog stand operated by a gregarious New York City exile. I don't know who we loved more: the hot dogs or Doug, the proprietor. Carl was not up for Moto (one of my favorite restaurants in the entire universe). He agreed to try Green Zebra, a minimalist, zen-like, contemporary vegetarian restaurant in West Town. I thought about architecture and food while I was eating at Green Zebra -the food was constructed like beautiful buildings. My good friend John, who lives in Chicago, joined us for dinner. He and I laugh a lot when we're together. We see the irony in a lot of things. John's laugh is contagious. When we were at Purdue, his mantra was that less is always more. John spent some time during dinner teasing me about introducing him to restaurants in his home city. While Carl and I were driving back and forth from the United Center between games, I spotted a place called Sip and forced Carl to pull over. Sure enough, it was a Chicago version of Grounded, the very cool tea/coffee place on Jane Street in the West Village. I am already contemplating my thank you dinner for this year. I plan to finagle a visit to Wd-50 but just for desserts. The big question is the five dessert tasting or just three. Sometimes less really is more.